


It's A Crash, Not A Crush

by DeceitfulHonesty



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, Meet-Cute, Neighbors AU, i guess, prompts stolen from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceitfulHonesty/pseuds/DeceitfulHonesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was definitely Jemma's fault. She shouldn't have been staring down the road, waiting for the cute girl who always ran down this street. And she definitely shouldn't have left her curtains open while she changed for work...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Crash, Not A Crush

Jemma was up early again, clutching her coffee and shuffling to the window. She threw open the flowy curtains of her bedroom window and took in all the activity of the morning. She loved looking out over the street before she started her morning routine. It had nothing to do with the attractive woman who lived down the block and always jogged by her window around 6 in the morning. Jemma just liked to see the goings-on of the neighborhood. If the ‘goings-on’ were running shirtless at an increasing frequency since the weather was warming up, that was just pure luck.

  
The neighbor’s dachshund got out again and was prancing down the street excitedly. Jemma wondered briefly if she should go retrieve him, but the man across the street noticed him while dragging his trash cans to the curb. Jemma supposed she could help, but it was much more fun to watch the short man in a Star Wars bathrobe attempt to snatch the tiny dog that kept prancing away from him.   
Eventually, the man won and shuffled down the street to return the dog to his home. The street was now empty, as the rest of the neighbors were getting ready to head off to work.

  
Jemma’s second alarm beeped from her phone, indicating that she should start the rest of her morning routine. She frowned a little at her phone. Usually, her runner friend came around much earlier. Jemma supposed she was taking a day off or something and tried not to be too disappointed.

  
She set her coffee mug on her nightstand and sorted through her closet for something nice to wear. She turned her back to the window, relinquishing any hope of seeing the runner today, and tugged off her pajama top to start changing into her work clothes.   
A loud crash startled her. Jemma clutched the nearest item of clothing to her chest and spun to look out the window. She vaguely registered that she forgot to close the curtains before she started changing, but was more distracted by the mess of limbs that was now sticking out of the wreckage of her neighbor’s trash cans.

  
Jemma hurriedly pulled on her shirt and darted across the street to help. She heard a groan from underneath one of the cans and threw it to the side.

  
“Are you hurt? I’m a doctor, I can help,” she rambled to the figure.

  
Some more shuffling of trash cans revealed the poor person underneath: it was the runner Jemma had been ogling for weeks. Her dark eyes locked with Jemma’s and her face flushed an even deeper red than it was before. She was probably just embarrassed at having run into a bunch of trash cans.

  
Jemma was sure her face was turning just as red. This woman didn’t know that Jemma watched her run every morning. She just had to play it cool.

  
Jemma gulped. “Um...hi. Are you alright?”

  
Her eyes swept over the woman’s body, who still lay in the pile of trash cans and looked a bit disoriented. Definitely checking her for injuries and nothing else. As it was a hot morning, the woman was in nothing but a sport bra and tight running shorts. Her bare (ridiculously toned) stomach was littered with scrapes and scratches from the fall, but nothing life threatening.

  
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I was just a little, uh….distracted. Didn’t see the trash cans,” the woman muttered. Her eyes flicked to the side and Jemma followed her gaze, which landed right on Jemma’s house. Where she could see the inside of her bedroom in vivid detail. The bedroom where Jemma had been standing topless moments before.

  
Now, she could definitely feel her face burning. “Oh god. Oh my god. I’m...um. Sorry?” Jemma blurted, unsure of what to say in this situation.

  
“No no, I’m sorry I was looking like some kind of creep. I deserve every bit of trash that I landed in,” the woman joked, struggling to detangle herself from the mess of garbage. Jemma offered a hand to pull her up, which the woman took.

  
Her eyes landed on a particularly bad scrape on the woman’s abdomen and her hands instinctively traced over it as she went into analysis mode.

  
“This one will definitely bruise, but it’s probably mild enough to not be too much of an inconvenience. As long as you put some antibiotics on these, they shouldn’t be too—”

  
Jemma paused and realized that she still had her hands resting on the woman’s bare skin. She glanced up and saw her peering at Jemma with an amused expression. Jemma jerked her hands back.

  
“Sorry. Bad doctor habit,” Jemma mumbled.

  
The woman chuckled. “It’s fine. Thank you for the diagnosis. I, uh...probably should finish up my run before Koenig realizes I knocked his trashcans over” she stated, gesturing down the road.

  
“Right. Definitely. You should do that. Continue your run,” Jemma rambled, trying for nonchalance and failing spectacularly. Somewhere in her mind, a voice was screaming ‘ _stop talking, just stop_ ’ but her mouth wasn’t getting the memo, “Wouldn’t want to let all those muscles atrophy, would we?”

  
Despite the complete impossibility of it, Jemma was desperately wishing for some kind of portal to appear and suck her out of this universe right now. Or maybe she should just crawl into one of the overturned trash cans and pretend this never happened.   
The woman smiled at her. “No. No, we would not want that,” she agreed in a teasing tone, “Oh, and I’m Daisy, by the way. I live down the block.”

  
“Jemma,” she replied, thanking the universe that she didn’t say ‘I know.’

  
“Nice to meet you. I’ll see you around I guess?” Daisy said.

  
“Yes, definitely. I’ll be around,” Jemma blurted. Maybe she liked it better when Daisy was wearing a shirt. It was much easier to form sentences.

  
Daisy smiled again. She reached into the pile of garbage and dug out her phone, shaking off some of the grime, and popping her headphones back into her ears as she turned and resumed her jog down the road.

  
Maybe Jemma would have to leave her curtains open more often.

**Author's Note:**

> Totally stole this prompt from Daily AU on tumblr because of reasons. Also, for some reason I really want to see someone draw this, so if you're artistically inclined, hmu. Enjoy!  
> Follow my writing blog yo~ sad-trash-writing


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